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I’ve never been a morning person. Still not. It’s always seemed like the right thing to be—but no matter how hard I try, I just can’t make it happen. When my little-girl self would stumble into the kitchen everyday, my dad would greet me with a joyful and enthusiastic, “Good morning sunshine!” I think that was more for his entertainment than my benefit, because the only response he ever got—if he got one at all—was a glance in his direction, an eye roll, or a grunt if I could muster the energy… Then along came coffee. In my day (don’t you love when people say that?), children weren’t allowed to drink coffee. Don’t know why you’d want to! But I’ve heard stories of friends whose parents or grandparents would allow such craziness. What they were really drinking was a cup full of warm milk and sugar with maybe a drip of the real stuff….I’m not sure why you’d want to amp a kid up with coffee or sugar, but whatever! I had to wait. It was a social drink when I was growing up—there was always a pot of coffee ‘on’ in my house. (Not one of those one-cup-pod machines!) When friends or family arrived— first thing my parents did was put on a fresh pot. On Friday nights in Minneapolis, all my aunts and uncles would gather at my grandpa’s house and drink coffee. I still remember the Lorna Doone cookies my grandpa would dunk—special occasions called for dunking donuts! The smell permeated the house and my memory still… So imagine my delight and excitement when I was finally old enough for coffee!! I was in college at the time, and although the smell of coffee had sweet connotations—lets get real! This stuff was AWESOME! It had the power to get me to class in the morning (most days), and helped me stay up all night studying! (that’s the story I told my mom, so stick with me here) NO WONDER everyone loves it so much! But it’s really so much more. This simple drink anchored long philosophical conversations about life. Warm cups of really bad coffee shared night after night cemented friendships. Red mugs full of the stuff greet me like an old friend. The aroma fills our kitchen as we share a cup to start each day, and it's the yummy goodness (decaf, that is) that tops off a delightful meal.

SO much more than roasted beans and water--this bitter drink holds sweet sweet memories of lives shared and the journey we’re all on together. So on this International Day of Coffee (who decides that anyway?), I want to say, Here’s to you, Joe! Here’s to the memories you hold. Here’s to the pick-me-up I need! Here’s to the warmth of you in my hand and in my soul. And even though you stain my teeth, my mugs, and the floor of my car…I love you still! Cheers to you!

When is a day not just a day?Not just another 24 hours…from sun up to sundown…like sands through the hourglass? We mark our lives by big days…Birth DAY, First DAY of School, Moving DAY, Wedding DAY…..

Our days on earth are but a shadow…Job 8:9b

All of the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be…Psalm 139:16bGive us this day our daily bread…Matt 6:11Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. Matt 6: 34And when does ‘This too shall pass” not hold true? When you grieve the loss of someone you love. This does not pass. And these ‘days’ are what make the first year of grief so hard—passing by all of life’s milestones and big days for the first time. In my very limited experience with friends and family who have truly experienced deep loss—who walk this journey every day—it seems that anticipating, building up to, or waiting for these ‘days’ to arrive can almost be worse than the ‘day’ itself. Living the loss all over again. Feeling even more deeply--if that's possible--the depth of the absence. Reminded of what could have been… …and what, to the rest of the world is just another day…knowing that this is the day your world changed forever. So to you my sweet Aunt Patty, whose life is now marked with the loss of a child…on this day and every day, I’m glad your plan has been to hold tight to Jesus. I pray He has given you peace and comfort and strength to face all the days… And to Blake and Brooklyn, Sherri and Skip, Nate and Bre, Gar and Stuart—and all who love Renee—I see you holding each other up and making the best of each day. For her sake, and for each other. And if your plan this week---this day—is just to pray and cry…then we will pray and cry too. That’s all there is. And that’s enough. But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. 2 Peter 3:8

So we rely on the promises and keep on singing, “How Great is Our God!” And we look forward to living together in eternity. When we’ve been there 10,000 years, bright shining as the sun, We’ve no less days to sing His praise (all together!) Than when we’ve first begun! ‘Amazing Grace’ verse 4 (parenthesis added)

I've always said it's all about the shoes and shades ladies. It doesn't really matter what you've got going on in between--it's all about the shoes and shades.

Can you see my dilemma here?

I can't wear mom shoes. WON'T wear mom shoes.

I've always prided myself on being pretty cutting-edge and stylish in the area of footwear (beauty hurts, girls), and to change that would be to change me.

See?

I can't help it.

But here's the problem.

Somehow while I was busy raising kids, loving the hubs and trying to live life...(she whispers....) I got old.

Well, old-ish let's call it.

And when I parade around in whatever hot new shoes have tickled my fancy, I'm beginning to feel conspicuous.

Like people are pointing and staring and snickering.

Thinking thoughts like, "doesn't she know?!?" and "she can't get away with that!" or just "oh my....."

Then I begin to feel pressure to conform. To be more like the crowd. To act my age. (ugh) To look like a good church-lady should. (it says right in the Bible not to conform....see? it's scriptural!)

But friends, to be anything other than who God designed me to be is to be living small. Not showing up. Squelching my creativity and the simple joy I find in a cute pair of shoes.

Romans 10:14-15 How, then, can they call on the one they have not believed in? And how can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can anyone preach unless they are sent? As it is written: “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!”

My feet in their cute shoes want to bring you good news ladies!

Jesus LOVES you! ALL of you. He created you--all the bits and pieces.

For His good pleasure! For His glory!to be His Friend!

and He went to the cross to die for you so He could live with you for eternity!!